Page 35 of Mate Night Snack (Hollow Oak Mates #2)

EMMETT

T hree weeks of recovery had taught Emmett that healing was less about the body knitting itself back together and more about learning to exist in a world where nightmares no longer had teeth.

The physical wounds had mended faster than expected, thanks to Twyla's potions and his natural shifter constitution. The deeper scars, the ones carved by guilt and self-doubt, those were taking longer. But they were healing too, slowly, sweetly, one quiet moment at a time.

Like now, watching Katniss try to balance a two-by-four on her shoulder while reading installation instructions that had clearly been written by someone who'd never seen an actual porch swing.

"I think you're holding it upside down," he said from his perch on the cabin's front steps, where Miriam had banished him with strict orders not to lift anything heavier than a coffee cup.

"The board or the instructions?" Katniss asked, squinting at the paper with the kind of intense focus she'd once reserved for crime scenes.

"Yes."

She stuck her tongue out at him, a gesture that should have been juvenile but somehow looked endearing when framed by the autumn sunlight streaming through her dark curls. "Very helpful, thank you. Maybe next time I'll ask the squirrels for construction advice."

"The squirrels would probably give you better directions."

"The squirrels didn't spend two days researching the perfect swing for optimal porch enjoyment." She set down the board and brandished the instructions like a weapon. "Do you know how many options there are? Wood types, chain lengths, cushion materials, weight capacities..."

"You researched porch swings?"

"I research everything." Her cheeks flushed slightly. "I wanted it to be perfect."

Something warm and bright unfurled in Emmett's chest at her words. The swing had been her idea, proposed during one of his crankier moments of forced inactivity. We need somewhere comfortable to sit and watch the world go by, she'd said. Somewhere that's just ours.

Just ours. Like they were building a life together instead of just surviving one.

"Hand me that bracket," he said, rising carefully from the steps.

"Miriam said you're not supposed to"

"Miriam's not here. And I'm not lifting anything heavy, just pointing out where things go."

Katniss studied him for a moment, then passed him the metal bracket with a small smile. "Fine. But if you tear your stitches, I'm telling her it was your idea."

"Deal."

They worked in comfortable silence for a while, her holding pieces in place while he marked measurements and checked levels. It was domestic in a way that felt revolutionary, ordinary moments that carried the weight of everything they'd survived to reach this point.

"Left side's drooping," she said, stepping back to survey their progress.

"Your left or my left?"

"The swing's left. Our right. Whatever, it's crooked."

He adjusted the chain, his fingers brushing hers as they both reached for the same link. The contact sent warmth spiraling up his arm, the mate bond humming with contentment.

"Better?"

"Perfect." She grinned, the expression transforming her face from pretty to radiant. "Want to test it?"

They settled onto the swing together, her tucked against his uninjured side, the gentle rocking motion soothing in ways he hadn't expected. From here, they could see the forest trail that led to town, the garden where she'd first been attacked, the place where everything had started to change.

"It's peaceful," she said softly.

"It is now."

"Do you think it'll stay that way? The peace, I mean. Or will some other supernatural crisis come knocking on our door?"

"Probably." He gave her a kiss on the cheek, breathing in the scent of oranges and bergamot that had become as essential to him as air. "But we'll handle it when it comes. Together."

"Together," she agreed, snuggling closer. "I like the sound of that."

The afternoon passed in a blur of small tasks and smaller conversations.

Hanging the swing properly. Testing its weight capacity.

Debating cushion colors with the seriousness of people planning a state dinner.

By the time the sun began its descent, they had a functional piece of furniture and an excuse to sit close together watching the world turn golden.

"We should get ready," Katniss said eventually, though she made no move to leave the comfort of his arms.

"Ready for what?"

"The dinner. Varric said six o'clock, remember? The whole town's coming."

Emmett groaned softly. He'd forgotten about the celebration dinner Hollow Oak had insisted on throwing in their honor. The idea of being the center of attention, of having his private happiness turned into a public spectacle, made his skin crawl.

"We could skip it," he suggested hopefully. "Tell them we're too tired. Or sick. Or dead."

"We're not skipping our own party." Katniss sat up, fixing him with a look that brooked no argument. "These people love us. They want to celebrate what we accomplished, what we survived. And after everything they've done for us, the least we can do is show up and eat Miriam's cooking."

"When you put it like that..."

"I always put it like that. It's called being right."

The Griddle & Grind had been transformed for the occasion, tables pushed together to form one long banquet setup, mismatched chairs arranged with the kind of careful chaos that spoke of community effort.

Fairy lights strung between the rafters cast everything in warm, golden light, and the air was thick with the scent of Miriam's legendary pot roast and Twyla's magical honey rolls.

The entire town seemed to be there. Varric presided over one end of the table with the dignity of an elder statesman, while Maeve held court at the other end with stories that grew more outrageous with each telling.

Callum and his quiet strength, the Tansley brothers with their eccentric charm, even Elder Bram had shown up, though he spent most of the evening looking like he'd accidentally wandered into someone else's celebration.

"Speech!" someone called out as the main course wound down.

"Speech!" others echoed, until the whole room was chanting and Emmett felt his face burn with embarrassment.

"I don't do speeches," he muttered to Katniss.

"Lucky for you, I do." She rose from her chair with the confidence of someone who'd never met a crowd she couldn't charm.

"Thank you all for being here tonight. For welcoming me into your community, for protecting me when I needed it, for believing in us when we couldn't quite believe in ourselves. "

A murmur of approval rippled through the room.

"Three months ago, I came to Hollow Oak looking for answers to an old mystery.

I thought I was chasing ghosts, hunting for truth in a place that seemed too good to be real.

" Her gaze found Emmett's across the table.

"What I found instead was home. Not just a place, but people.

A family I didn't know I needed, built around love instead of obligation. "

"Here, here!" Twyla called out, raising her glass.

"To Hollow Oak," Katniss continued, lifting her own glass. "To second chances and new beginnings. To the kind of love that makes you braver than you thought you could be."

"To Hollow Oak!" the room chorused, glasses clinking in a symphony of crystal and contentment.

Later, after the dishes were cleared and the tables pushed back, someone produced a fiddle and the evening transformed into an impromptu dance.

Emmett found himself pressed against the wall, watching Katniss spin between Twyla and Miriam with the kind of unconscious grace that made his chest tight with emotion.

She was glowing. Her laughter filled the room like birdsong, bright and joyful and completely unguarded.

"You going to stand there all night, or are you going to dance with your woman?" Maeve appeared beside him, golden eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I don't dance."

"Course you don't. You brood, you lurk, you occasionally growl at people who get too close to your food. But dancing? That would require showing emotion in public."

"I show emotion."

"Scowling doesn't count."

Before he could argue further, the music slowed and Katniss appeared in front of him, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with happiness.

"Dance with me," she said, holding out her hand.

"I really don't."

"Dance with me," she repeated, and this time it wasn't a request.

He let her pull him onto the makeshift dance floor, acutely aware of every eye in the room watching them. But when her arms went around his neck, when she pressed close enough that he could feel her heartbeat against his chest, the rest of the world faded away.

They swayed together in time with the gentle melody, not really dancing so much as holding each other upright. He felt her contentment, her love, her absolute certainty that this was where she belonged.

"I love you.”

"I love you too."

"Marry me."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, carried by music and moonlight and the overwhelming rightness of having her in his arms. Katniss went still, pulling back to search his face.

"What did you say?"

His heart hammered against his ribs, but he didn't take it back. "Marry me. Make this official. Let me spend the rest of my life proving I'm worthy of what we have."

"Emmett..." Her eyes filled with tears, but she was smiling. "You don't have to prove anything. You already are worthy. You're everything I never knew I wanted."

"Is that a yes?"

"That's a yes." She tilted her head up for a kiss, soft and sweet and full of promises. "Yes to marriage, yes to forever, yes to whatever comes next."